Enchanted Endgame
by The Cat's Whiskers
Summary: Everyone has done one this is mine, the feel good ending to the series I wanted. Set post season 7 obviously, a decade after the return home.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer:** Star Trek: Voyager and all characters therein are the property of Americans who are not me. No infringement of copyright is intended._

This is set post-Season 7 and is my 'feel good' ending to the show; I also try and provide as many _plausible_ reasons for this alternative future as I can! NB – the 'main segment' of this story is sent ten years after the crew got back from the Delta Quadrant. Spoilers – entire series. Rating T/PG13 for odd risqué phrase.

NB –Certain chapters are longer than usual for my postings; however, to do otherwise would interrupt the flow of the narrative too much, so apologies.

**ENCHANTED ENDGAME**

**Chapter 1**

They ambled along the sidewalk in the cocooning silence of true companions; San Francisco was warm without being oppressive on this late summer night and there was no need for speed.

Kathryn paused on the sidewalk as they reached the Paris house, a fine old building in San Francisco's historic quarter, purchased mainly for the spacious but enclosed-courtyard back garden wherein fraught parents could let a hyperactive quarter-Klingon daughter have free rein. "Maybe we shouldn't tell them? Surely it would be too much like trying to hog the limelight from Harry's news? Besides, it would eclipse your own news as well –"

Chakotay smirked and silenced her by the simple expedient of capturing her hand and raising it to his lips for a gentle kiss across her knuckles. Ah, his Captain, always thinking of everyone else in their exclusive club of 'Voyagers'; unsurprising, considering in many ways Kathryn Janeway had never really stopped being Captain of the _USS Voyager_.

What had Neelix said so long ago, to Kes? _One of your most endearing qualities_…and it was also in this woman. He chuckled softly now, "Have you forgotten the 'grapevine' already? They'd never forgive us if they heard it elsewhere first, and if half of them don't already know, I'll specifically ask Neelix for a bowlful of stewed Leola root."

She smiled in return, her eyes bright and her face as rosy as a child's. As he linked his arm through hers again, Chakotay marvelled again at how his beloved hadn't seemed to age a day, ruefully aware of the ever-broadening streaks of silver shot through his own formerly polished-obsidian crop; one more thing for Tom Paris to tease him about.

"Auntie Captain! Auntie Captain! Uncle Chakotay!" With delighted squeals, Miral Paris shot out of her front doorway, her healthy trio of Klingon lungs helping her announce to everything within a two-block radius that her beloved 'honorary' aunt and uncle had arrived.

"Miral, speak from the diaphragm, I don't think they got that in Paraguay," called Tom Paris from the doorway ruefully.

"Huh?" Miral stopped and looked puzzled; daddy was just too weird sometimes.

"Evening Captain Janeway, Commander Chakotay," came the highly amused greetings of the family across the street as they got in their own vehicle for an evening out, having heard Miral's exuberant greeting. There was, however, no malice – Tom and B'Elanna were loving but firm parents who did not allow their children to run riot.

Kathryn and Chakotay went straight through to the courtyard, where a large table groaned under the weight of food; this annual event had occurred sufficiently now for there to be no need for direction. As Chakotay went to get drinks for them both, Kathryn greeted those already present.

Since Harry Kim and his wife, Libby, lived next door, they were always first. In the ornamental lantern light, Libby's curling chestnut hair seemed almost polished and she positively glowed, being in the early stages of her second pregnancy. Nobody had been surprised when she and Harry had come together again once _Voyager_ made it home; she had always been Harry's real love.

A sensible and emotionally mature young woman, Libby had come to terms with Harry's occasional lapses in the Delta Quadrant, but always joked that she had given in to stop Tom Paris's relentless lobbying of her on his best friend's behalf. It was true that in those initial days, Harry Kim had moped around like a lost puppy in Libby's vicinity and Tom had pulled out all the stops to get the pair together again – according to him it was either that or strangle Harry if he played 'one more clarinet dirge'. The couple had purchased the house next door since, in the words of Harry, 'somebody has to keep Paris in check'. There was only 48 hours age difference between Tom and B'Elanna's second child and Harry and Libby's currently only child – Harry Eugene Paris and Thomas Sun Lao Kim were inseparable and according to B'Elanna twice the wreakers of havoc that their fathers had been in the entire Delta Quadrant. Having just started first grade, they were presently trying to harass Miral in between attempting to filch a few delicacies off the table without attracting B'Elanna's attention.

Also present was the Doctor; only having to download yourself from Point A to Point B as a datastream had enormous advantages if you wanted to always be first in the queue. The Doctor had a position at Starfleet Academy, teaching Senior Year xeno-medicine; his classes were massively oversubscribed and as Starfleet Admiral N'Mimbi had explained, his pithy and unsympathetic demeanour was perfect for puncturing the egos of those high-flying cadets who were just a little too over-confident in their abilities after years of being treated, albeit rightly, as the 'crème de la crème' of Starfleet's best and brightest.

Although the Doctor had embraced an active social life (nowadays most people forgot he was a hologram) he never brought any of his paramours to this party, and so was attending alone as usual. He had let slip that Admiral Janeway had revealed he was married in the alternate timeline, but on reflection, had decided against this – his hologramatic status meant that he was relatively immortal and he knew the profoundly damaging psychological effect of this fact on even the most understanding wife would probably destroy the marriage. Discreet liaisons were the order of the day.

As well as this, not requiring food or rest like a biological species enabled him to lead an active life 24/7. Besides his Starfleet career he did a lot of fashion modelling, and was even now the picture of sartorial elegance; the fact that his body-shape never changed made him an ideal living mannequin. He was a frequent visitor to his close friend, Commander Reginald Barclay; the deeply shy man had been profoundly moved and overwhelmed to discover that his tireless efforts on the 'Pathfinder' project to locate Voyager had elevated him to the status of 'honorary' crewmember in their eyes. The Doctor also frequently visited his human creator, the EMH pioneer Lewis Zimmerman; according to Counsellor Deanna Troi, another friend of Reg Barclay, the Doctor had given the previously erratic and depressive Zimmerman a new lease on life. After some deliberation, the Doctor had named himself 'Barclay Zimmerman' for legal purposes, but had been known as 'the Doctor' for so long he couldn't get used to anything else.

"Seven and Tuvok are going to be late – San Francisco spaceport's heaving," B'Elanna explained as she came out of the house, still slender and attractive after having two children and 'riding herd on Tom Paris' as she put it.

Kathryn smiled and noticed how B'Elanna accepted a glass of wine from her mate as Tom came and put his arm around her waist; so she wasn't pregnant again then, although Harry was now over four years old. Time had not dimmed the love, or the mutual passion between her former Con Officer and Chief Engineer. Harry Kim had once explained it to her, after being sent to an alternate timeline where an Ensign Daniel Bird was on Voyager instead of him and that Tom Paris had ended up a bar-fly drunk…at the most fundamental level, Tom Paris needed to be needed.

He was in his element when he had someone to look after; with his wife, his children and his best friend next door, he had never been happier. B'Elanna, who was still a Practical Engineering Applications lecturer at the Academy, had voiced her worries to Kathryn – no, to her Captain – a few years back when Tom had cheerfully abandoned his redeemed and rejuvenated Starfleet career for a civilian position flying Earthbound experimental spacecraft prototypes, especially as the job was a daily commute between 'San Fran' and Perth, Australia. But Tom had had no difficulties giving up the chance to steer a starship all over the inhabited galaxy for nine-to-five mundane life; 'been there, done that' was his attitude.

He was still a frequent visitor to Starfleet Academy as a hugely popular part-time instructor at the Pilots' School; like the Doctor his lectures were booked solid weeks in advance and on the day were always standing room only. As the only Federation pilot to ever have flown a starship over half the completely uncharted Delta Quadrant - in, out, on, off, through and around interstellar voids of nothingness, dark nebulas, imploding super-novas, worm holes, black holes, starship-eating space monsters, Borg space, fluidic space and Demon-Class planets - it was not as if _he_ had anything left to prove to the young bucks who could only sit there and aspire.

A commotion at the door heralded by more delighted cries from Miral proved to be the arrival of Neelix, sweeping the child up in his arms. She was a queen in his world, and she knew it. After accepting this due homage of her stature, Miral went happily back to playing, while Neelix accepted a large glass of dry red wine from Tom Paris. The fact that he was massively overdressed showed he come straight from his Ambassadorial Chambers at Starfleet's Diplomatic Section.

"Still no breakthrough, Neelix?" Chakotay enquired.

"They're feisty, but I'm confident," Neelix replied with a cheer that boded well, before tut-tutting, "Mr Kim you really need to move. You're blocking the far more lovely view of your wife with your head."

Having heard it all before, Harry just rolled his eyes and obediently hutched out of the way as Neelix swooped on the chuckling Libby.

"Such radiance; such glow!" Neelix clasped both her hands in his dramatically.

Everyone chuckled, but as always during Neelix's familiar ritual, Kathryn felt a poignant pang on behalf of her friend. Back when Neelix and Kes had pleaded to join the _Voyager_, she'd not thought much beyond relief at having a couple of for-once friendly native faces around. Over the years everyone had become so accustomed to Neelix that it had never occurred that when they made it back to the Alpha Quadrant,_ Neelix_ would be the one stranded permanently 70,000 light years from home.

Despite her own personal feelings of loss, she'd been happy that Neelix had found a new life with Dexa and her son, Brax, in the Delta Quadrant – and he _had_ for many years, finally putting behind him the loss of his immediate family in the Metrion Cascade so long before. But twenty cycles later, Dexa had passed away in her sleep a cycle – about 14 months in human time - after Brax's marriage had produced her first grandchild. With his stepson grown and settled, Neelix's restlessness returned and he had moved on, eventually finding a relatively stable wormhole he thought would take him to the Alpha Quadrant.

It had in fact led to the Gamma Quadrant, and like the ancient microscopic one they discovered in the Delta Quadrant so many decades before, it was a wormhole through time as well as space. Neelix had inadvertently sent himself to the Gamma Quadrant over 15 Earth years in the past – at same time that Admiral Janeway was implementing her audacious plan to rewrite _Voyager's_ history which, if it worked, would bring them home 16 years early and save 22 lives. Oblivious to this, Neelix had encountered the Dominion, and one of the Founders was a former Deep Space 9 Security Officer named 'Odo', who had filled Neelix in on the recent end of the Federation-Dominion War, and helped him to reach the Alpha Quadrant. Granted passage through the stable wormhole, Neelix had arrived at Deep Space 9 (although he didn't know it then) just two days before Admiral Janeway indeed pulled off her plan and _Voyager_ made it home.

Permitted to send a message by Captain Kira when the news of the ship's dramatic arrival via Borg transwarp corridor spread, Neelix had been overwhelmed when Admiral Picard aboard the _USS Enterprise_ and had collected him from Deep Space 9 and took him to Earth at maximum warp in time to witness the _USS Voyager's_ triumphal return and he had been greeted ecstatically by the crew, who jocularly declared they were now safe from the culinary dangers of Ensign Chell.

But at first Neelix had been lost too, adrift in that depressive lull they'd all experienced after the initial euphoria, without direction and feeling useless. But then he'd managed to very publicly defuse a standoff between a Klingon Bird-of-Prey and a Romulan Warbird by the simple expedient of declaring himself the only representative of his species in the Alpha Quadrant and that if _they_ were representative of the Alpha Quadrant's higher life-forms, he was going to go all 70,000 light years back home again.

Far more species than humanity found Ambassador Neelix a godsend. As the only one of his kind around, and native to the Delta Quadrant, he was the perfect completely impartial negotiator. He had no agenda, no 'side' or vested interest in any one party; Latinum as a currency was unknown to him, making him essentially impossible to bribe.

He was in constant demand for treaties, business negotiations and peace talks, etc., and made all the more popular by his refusal to be intimidated or browbeaten. Once during high-level treaty negotiations, when a Klingon youth made a derogatory remark about B'Elanna being a half-breed he had shot him in the leg with a phaser on the spot and as the youth crumpled in agony Neelix had thrown the Klingons out of the treaty talks for their 'outrageous slur' against the incomparable B'Elanna Torres, slayer of the Borg, scourge of the Hirogen and reigning _Chez Sandrine_ pool champion of the _USS Voyager_. Having never mentioned any of this to her parents or her Clan, B'Elanna found herself regarded with much greater interest by the Klingons.

"When is it due?" Neelix asked, beaming at Libby's abdomen as if he thought the baby could see him.

"Not for seven months, and it's a she." Libby's cheeks blushed prettily at his outrageous flattery.

Kathryn raised her glass and took a sip to hide her wry smile; Neelix was charming and effervescent and believed he had almost a divine mission to make everyone feel good about themselves, but he was essentially alone. There were no female Talaxians within 70,000 light years of Earth and, despite his successful marriage to Dexa and for all his flirting, she had long ago realised that as far as Neelix was concerned, Kes had been his 'one and only', in the same manner that Tom Paris's obsession with B'Elanna Torres still burned as bright today as it had getting on for – good lord, seventeen years or more! – since he had first clapped eyes on the obstreperous half-Klingon Maquis. Incredible to realise that Miral Paris was a decade old.

Still, at least Neelix's people knew he was safe. She had stood in her Starfleet office and set her datapad to call out "Q!" imperiously non-stop for a whole hour before the exasperated being had appeared. He had spluttered when she demanded he inform the Talaxian government of Neelix's safety and happiness in the Alpha Quadrant, but she had browbeaten him down. Her message had been delivered, though he had stopped off on the way back to the _Enterprise_ and spent a solid two hours bending the ear of Admiral Picard that this was what you got when you let a woman take the command chair. She still had the message sent by Admiral Picard, Captain Will Riker and Counsellor Troi that they hadn't laughed so much in ages.

A polite _rat-a-tat-tat_ came at the door; nobody moved but they chorused in unison, "Come in, Icheb!" A couple of seconds later, two young people appeared in the doorway, smiling, Icheb and Naomi Wildman.

"Ensign on deck!" declared Harry loudly, suddenly standing up.

Everyone rose in auto-reflex before his words registered and they all looked again at the ruddy-faced Icheb and giggling Naomi. Indeed, the Crewman tabs on his uniform tunic collar had been replaced by an Ensign insignia.

Tom Paris made a lazy swipe at laughing Harry's head, which he easily avoided, as Kathryn stepped forward, "Icheb, congratulations. When were you promoted?"

"Admiral Picard did it yesterday morning, Captain." Though still furiously blushing, Icheb answered with his usual composure. "He and his senior staff send their regards from _Enterprise _to everyone."

"Thank you," Kathryn cocked a stern look at Naomi. "So how much did _you_ win, Crewman Wildman?"

"Captain…" Naomi attempted her best 'angelic innocence' look, but couldn't hold it for more than a few seconds under the intimidating force of their united scepticism. She laughed again. "I cleaned up; by last week it was up to forty gold-pressed bars of Latinum on what day before the month was out would Admiral Picard make Itchy an Ensign."

"Please don't call me that, Naomi," Icheb winced.

"Hey, you owe me! I talked Qb out of throwing you an impromptu party on the _Enterprise _Bridge complete with Trallian dancing girls and Ndiisi sex maidens." Naomi said and then frowned, "well, maybe talked him into _postponing _it at any rate. He said to say a "'double hello to Aunt Kathy'" ma'am and that you'd know what he meant."

Kathryn merely nodded, meeting Chakotay's eyes over the girl's head; aloud she said, "Kewbie?"

"'Qb'," Icheb explained, "I'm afraid that since we have been stationed on the _Enterprise_," he indicated himself and Naomi, "Q and his son have taken to popping in every so often. I feared that Admiral Picard would have me reassigned because of it, however, he has kindly seemed to accept it as a necessary evil."

"With the Q, you can't do much else," Chakotay pointed out wryly.

"Well, I hope you enjoy spending all that Latinum," Tom was congratulating Naomi, passing her the glass of red wine she'd chosen.

"I was thinking of running a double-or-nothing sweepstake," Naomi teased.

"Thomas Eugene Paris," enunciated B'Elanna with mock sternness, "You have utterly corrupted this child. I have a good mind to sic Sam Wildman and her husband on you!"

Tom raised his hands in mock surrender but Chakotay chuckled, "As I recall, there was a certain Maquis who used to regularly wipe out what little Latinum most of us poor suckers managed to acquire by running betting pools on everything from the 'amount of Dilithium in the warp core' to 'number of Cardassian patrols left eating our space dust'."

"Really?" Tom folded his arms and looked at his flustered wife with interest; Kathryn, closest, could tell from the subtle gleam in his eyes that he would pursue the subject much later on this night, when he and B'Elanna had their own, far more _private_ party.

Sparing B'Elanna's blushes, Naomi assured them, "Actually I'm putting the Latinum in the Starfleet Academy Prep Account ready for the fearsome foursome. I think mom and dad are counting the days."

"Some days I can relate," B'Elanna agreed, "and I only have _three_ kids to look after."

"I resemble that remark," Tom laughed.

Upon their return to the Alpha Quadrant, Ensign Samantha Wildman had promptly left Starfleet after having endured a seven-year enforced separation from her Katarian husband. Despite an initial rocky patch, their marriage had prospered, and they had had four more children, a set of identical twin girls followed by a set of identical twin boys. Much older than her siblings, Naomi often acted more like a benevolent aunt, but she was a responsible young woman who cared deeply for her parents, especially as Samantha and her husband had taken Icheb under their wing. Privately, Kathryn was certain that Naomi and Icheb would pair off together eventually, but for now they were very close platonic friends only.

Yet again there was noise at the front door as the final members of the evening arrived, Tuvok and Seven. The latter immediately spotted Icheb's change of insignia as she entered the courtyard and raised one eyebrow. Kathryn felt a twinge of relief as Seven warmly praised Icheb for his achievement. Although Icheb had integrated seamlessly into human life, his and Seven's mutual Borg past meant she was the closest thing to a parental figure he had, and that was vitally important to him.

"Come one everyone, time to eat – Kim and Paris, you pair can get to the back of the queue as you've been grazing like Bolian heifers on everything I've made today!" B'Elanna peremptorily shooed them back from the table.

"I was just smelling, Tom was the one stuffing his face –" Harry tried to fib.

"Were too!" Tom folded his arms indignantly.

"Ah the scintillating wit and repartee," the Doctor came to join them since of course as a hologram he did not eat.

The meal progressed as they chatted with the comfortable lack of ceremony customary amongst old, close friends, exchanging news and gossip. Tuvok and Seven were on their current visit to Vulcan, Tuvok had become a grandfather for the sixth time, finally having a granddaughter after four grandsons. The Doctor had been present at the birth by permission of Tuvok's second son and his mate, having transmitted himself there directly from Deep Space 9 after delivering the first child born to William Telfer and his Bajoran wife, former Ensign Tal Celes – a marital match that had surprised nobody, since she negated his hypochondria and he cancelled out her low self-esteem.

Still, Kathryn mused to herself, it was for the best that Tal had left Starfleet as fast as she could once they returned to the Alpha Quadrant. Although not as inadequate as her low self-confidence had her believing, she had been more right than wrong in her conviction that Starfleet had let her in on the grounds of being Bajoran than any genuine aptitude. She wasn't cut out for Starfleet life and she was only too happy to return to being a civilian.

Kathryn tuned back in as the doctor amusingly related how Will Telfer had transferred his hypochondria from himself to his newborn daughter, Celia Kathryn Telfer. After he had been summoned three times between midnight and dawn by Telfer demanding to know "'but should she be breathing like that?'" the Doctor had threatened to summon Deep Space 9's resident physician Doctor Bashir and have Telfer medically confined to the remotest Bajoran monastery he could find until the man calmed down. In contrast, Tuvok's second daughter-in-law had been the model of Vulcan efficiency with a 45-second labour.

Finally during a lull, Kathryn cleared her throat meaningfully and was rewarded by the instant and complete attention of the entire group. Not bad ten years after the fact of being their Captain in any real sense. "Chakotay and I have an announcement of our own to make..." she couldn't stop the smile or the happiness bubbling up, "I'm pregnant."

"Well, finally, it's about time!" Tom Paris declared, "We were beginning to worry -I've been asking the Doc to run a health scan on Chakotay for the past six months!"

"Watch it, Paris," growled Chakotay, "until Friday I can still have you thrown in the brig."

"Yes, _sir_," completely unabashed, Tom raised his glass in salute to his Captain, an action imitated by all of them, even the Doctor quickly creating a holographic wineglass for himself.

The doctor brought out his datapad, though he did not really need the affectation; but it made him seem more human and less intimidating. "When would you like me to schedule your first antenatal consultation?"

"We were hoping next week," Chakotay admitted, "but we know you're so busy…"

The Doctor consigned his schedule to oblivion with an airy flick of his fingers. "Nonsense, I have delivered every child born to the Voyagers since we returned, and I have no intention of breaking that tradition with the Captain. I am peerless in the field of midwifery. In fact, I have more experience in dealing with alien childbirth than any Starfleet physician. Remind me to write a paper on the subject."

"Yes, doctor." Kathryn acquiesced; collection of light particles or no, she did love this conceited little man.

"Are you aware of the foetal gender?" Seven enquired, her efficient mind already moving into Supplies Needed mode.

"Yes, and its _genders_," Kathryn corrected. "My scan showed we're having identical twins – girls."

"Qb's message: double hello," murmured Naomi to Icheb in realisation.

"You'd be welcome to any of Miral's things," B'Elanna instantly offered.

"Thanks," Chakotay accepted, "We are getting a lot of stuff from my family though; they're ecstatic – these will be the first females born into my paternal family for ten generations."

"Well, this should get you going," B'Elanna declared mischievously, holding out a datapad.

Chakotay took it and Kathryn looked at it with him, both puzzled.

"It's a list of all the names I was given when I was pregnant with Miral," B'Elanna explained.

"You kept it all these years?" Naomi asked.

"I couldn't bring myself to get rid of it," B'Elanna admitted with rare unselfconscious sentimentalism. "Besides, we were sure Harry was going to be a girl too."

"The thought is appreciated, but we've already selected their names," Kathryn handed back the datapad as it scrolled down to 'Gokwuth', a traditional Bolian name as suggested by Ensign Chell. She pointed at her abdomen, "The tadpole on the left is Teya, and the tadpole on the right…is Seven."

Seven's eyes widened in shock, and then she inclined her head. "I am honoured."

"We'd like you to be a bit more than honoured," Chakotay admitted. "We were hoping that you and Tuvok would agree to be amongst the godparents."

Tuvok and Seven didn't even need to exchange glances, "It would be our pleasure. Thank-you."

"I'd hold on to that sentiment for a while if I were you, Tuvok," Kathryn advised dryly. "If the pair of them turn out anything like I and my sister were as children, you will need every ounce of Vulcan imperturbability you can muster."

"I look forward to the challenge." Tuvok said with unconcern. "May I enquire as to your intentions now that you are leaving Starfleet, Commander?"

"Leaving Starfleet?" Harry repeated as they all regarded Chakotay.

"You stated that you had the power to incarcerate Mr Paris in the brig until this Friday, implying therefore after that date you would no longer possess that authority. Such would only be the case if you were no longer a Starfleet officer." Tuvok reminded Chakotay.

"Absolutely right," Chakotay grinned, not annoyed that as usual he had not been able to slip anything past the Vulcan. "I've been offered a full Professorship of Anthropology at Starfleet Academy at the London base and I've accepted. I start a week Monday."

"At this rate we're going to get toaster's elbow," joked Tom. "That's wonderful, Chakotay; it's what you've always been interested in."

"Being on the bridge of a starship every day lost its appeal a long time ago," Chakotay shrugged as he expressed a sentiment common to them all. "We're only living a street away from campus and Kathryn will be just down the corridor as a Professor of Astrometrics."

"My sister and her family live in England, too," Kathryn explained, "so I've transferred from Starfleet HQ campus as of next month."

"How much does the rest of the crew know about everything that's happening?" Neelix enquired.

"Oh I'm sure the rumours are already multiplying, but we're relying on you to spread the word, Neelix," Chakotay asked.

"Absolutely," his eyes alight with the joy of so many juicy titbits to tell, Neelix practically bounced in his seat.

"But before we go any further, I want to apologise to Harry," Kathryn said. "We had no wish to spoil your own wonderful news, Harry, but there's no way we could have kept my condition secret after I fainted and –"

"_Fainted_?" The word was chorused unanimously in alarm and the Doctor made to get out his medical tricorder.

"My own fault," Kathryn waved them down, sheepishly admitting, "I'd skipped breakfast, I downed two full pots of coffee virtually in one gulp and I jumped up out of my chair too fast because I was late for my 9:30am class."

"We discussed the occurrence at length," Chakotay commented sternly, "and it won't happen again."

"The two pots of coffee certainly won't" the Doctor stated firmly, "otherwise Teya and Seven will bounce out of your womb on their own; from tomorrow – one _small_ cup – per day."

Tom Paris had now folded his arms and eyed his friend quizzically. "Wait a minute, what news, Harry? You haven't said anything to _me _about anything."

"It's nothing, really," Harry dismissed, "I wasn't going to announce it to anyone."

"It is important, Harry," Kathryn contradicted, "and nobody is more suited."

"Well…"

"Harry, don't make me get the Klingon pain-sticks," Tom threatened, "_give_."

Libby and Harry clasped hands grinning like loons at each other. "You know how when I transferred from active duty to Engineering Design at Starfleet HQ because Tom was born, there was only a two-day lecturer's position available?" Harry reiterated, drawing out the suspense.

"Haarreee…" Tom growled like an impatient child, making Kathryn smile.

"You have been offered a full-time position?" Icheb guessed.

Harry shook his head, grinning "No; I was going to apply for one when we knew we were expecting again, but…from next month I am going to be the solo clarinettist for the New York Philharmonic Orchestra -"

"…And the first piece he's going to play is _The Void_," Libby couldn't contain herself any longer.

"Harry, that's wonderful!" B'Elanna exclaimed for them all.

His blush actually spread to his neck, but his eyes were delighted. Seven also looked pleased. When _Voyager _came home, none of the crew gave much thought to the holonovels, poetry, art, sculpture and music they had created for themselves or collected/exchanged with alien species on a ship cut off from the latest entertainment. Seven had decided to keep all of it as part of her ongoing understanding of her humanity and had ordered the collection with her usual efficiency. One day someone had heard her playing the music and had asked for a copy. They had given it to someone else and it had become part of the public domain. She had lent a copy of her rather grandiloquently entitled '_Insurrection:_ a Paris-Tuvok Holonovel' to a neighbour whose journalist friend saw it and ran excerpts with an op-ed piece. It had earned its authors considerable royalties and even now a decade after their return had never been out of the Top Ten in the '_Choose Your Own Adventure_' section. Seven had loaned the entire collection to the Smithsonian, where it had been incorporated into the _USS Voyager, _the ship now a permanent exhibit.

"You'll have to let us know when to buy tickets, Harry," Chakotay urged.

Libby laughed, "Actually that won't be necessary. That was the condition that Harry insisted upon."

"What do you mean?" Tom looked at his best friend, who was blushing furiously.

"It's incredibly difficult to get part-time soloists for any orchestra unless they're of independent means, since most musicians who already have another job don't have the flexibility. Harry's engineering post means he sets his own schedule," Libby explained, "and they were falling over themselves to grab a clarinettist of his calibre, so they agreed to Harry's condition for accepting the position, namely that first refusal of the best seats in the house at any performance he is involved in are given to the Voyagers."

"Nice going, Harry," Tom complimented, tilting his glass towards him.

"I learned from the master," Harry raised his glass to his best friend in mutual salute.

_Continued in Chapter 2…_

© 2005 Catherine D Stewart


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer:** Star Trek: Voyager and all characters therein are the property of Americans who are not me. No infringement of copyright is intended._

This is set post-Season 7 and is my 'feel good' ending to the show; I also try and provide as many _plausible_ reasons for this alternative future as I can! NB – the 'main segment' of this story is sent ten years after the crew got back from the Delta Quadrant. Spoilers – entire series. Rating T/PG13 for odd risqué phrase.

NB –Certain chapters are longer than usual for my postings; however, to do otherwise would interrupt the flow of the narrative too much, so apologies.

**ENCHANTED ENDGAME**

**Chapter 2**

Finally, the dinner table looked like a horde of Desert Locusts had hit it and everyone was replete with good food and, bar Kathryn, perhaps a little merry with wine. The three children had fallen asleep in their playhouse at the bottom of the garden. Kathryn and B'Elanna poked their heads through the door; little Tom and Harry were curled around each other like puppies near the bottom of the bed, fast asleep, Miral was laying on the pillow but as the two women looked in one eye snapped open to fix on them before losing focus and closing as Miral identified them as no threat to the two little boys that she considered equally to be her brothers.

Occasionally someone would take a bit of detritus into the kitchen and throw it into the vaporiser in the process of making another drink, but they were largely content to just enjoy each others company as evening became true night, desultorily conversing in twos and threes, meandering conversational eddies rippling like droplets in a stream.

"You're really looking forward to the professorship," Tom Paris commented as he sat with Harry next to Chakotay on one of the high-backed antique garden benches, the three men sipping large and liberally laced Irish coffees that warmed them considerably; after outrageous wheedling at the Doctor, Kathryn had been allowed one small version of the same.

Even as Chakotay nodded he was whimsically musing that if anyone had walked up to him seventeen years before and told him that one day he would count Tom Paris as one of his closest friends, he'd have had them sectioned to a mental hospital. "Yes. Even with the pardon I was never going to get higher than Commander, certainly never captaincy of my own ship as a former Maquis, and most definitely…_Not After_…"

Both Tom and Harry merely gave nods of understanding at the emphasised code phrase. Even now a decade after the events, the incident was never mentioned aloud except in the most obtuse of terms, for the Cardassians had long memories and eternal grudges, and even now there might be some lone vindictive Cardassian Gul's goon monitoring their conversations in hope of obtaining the damning proof.

Tom Paris couldn't help but feel a little smug as he contemplated the sheer joy that radiated from Chakotay and the Captain – impossible to view her as Janeway and certainly Kathryn – as he had been their catalyst in a minor way.

"I'd be lying if I said I weren't feeling a certain amount of trepidation." Kathryn confessed to B'Elanna and Libby. "Motherhood was something I thought lost to me when the Caretaker stranded us in the Delta Quadrant and I was never much good at the maternal stuff."

"You can't be any worse than I was, remember my Neurotic Mother from Hell routine?" B'Elanna reminded her, recalling the time when she had even reprogrammed the Doctor in her obsessive fears about her then-unborn daughter's Klingon heritage.

"To be honest, I'm still trying to get my head around it," Libby confessed, "you've left Starfleet now, so you'll never_ be_ Admiral Janeway, but it was because you _became_ Admiral Janeway that you were able –"

"Don't even try," Kathryn raised a hand, "Temporal Mechanics will drive you crazy faster than anything else in the world."

"Chakotay has no regrets," B'Elanna looked at where her husband and two closest friends were conversing quietly, taking a sip of her own Irish coffee – one of the better human traditions Tom had introduced her to – before she asked, "how about you?"

"None whatsoever," Kathryn vetoed firmly. "_Officially_ Starfleet couldn't blame me because Admiral Janeway and I were two entirely different people and we managed to deal a death-blow to the Borg in the process for goodness sake; _she_ violated the Temporal Prime Directive and once she was gone…but it was always going to be difficult. We weren't a crew on the _Voyager_, we were a family, and that has always been an issue in the Alpha Quadrant. I knew when so many of the Voyagers resigned from Starfleet altogether or swapped from active service to administrative and Academy positions what the problem was…"

"You are our Captain," B'Elanna shrugged as she made the simple statement of fact, "You always will be."

"Exactly; but as far as Starfleet is concerned that sort of devotion is what leads to incidents like Ransom and the Equinox, the cult of personality." Kathryn pointed out over B'Elanna's derisive snort, "and even if they had been inclined to ignore all that, they weren't _Not After_…" T-o-m R-i-k-e-r, she silently mouthed rather than spoke the words, even now ten years after the fact.

Libby and B'Elanna nodded sagely, that incident having been the trigger for their Captain and Chakotay finally admitting their real feelings for each other – though not without help and some serious arm-twisting from their former senior staff.

"Will Chakotay and the Captain be all right now they're not really in Starfleet anymore and they're going to be _parents_?" Naomi mentioned, she and Icheb looking worried.

"They will adapt," Seven stated calmly.

"There's no need for concern," Neelix reassured confidently, "after making her way past the Kazon, Vidiians, Malon, Krenim, Hirogen and the Borg, the Captain and Commander will have no trouble with parenthood."

"Agreed," Tuvok supported. "I am confident that they will acquit their roles as parents admirably."

B'Elanna and Libby went into the kitchen to prepare another round of Irish coffee, while Chakotay, Harry and Tom helped clear away some of the tableware. Knowing that she would not get another Irish coffee go-ahead out of the Doctor regardless of the most persuasive blandishments, Kathryn came over to join them.

"Seven, I haven't asked you how your visit to Vulcan went this time," Kathryn apologised.

"The Temple of Ammonak is most impressive," Seven commented, "the Vulcan High Council has offered me a position as a Professor of Astrometrics and I intend to accept."

"That's wonderful news, Seven." Kathryn praised.

"I will visit my relatives on Earth for an extended period first," Seven said, "with your permission I will inform them of your condition and investigate the role of…godmother."

"Granted," Kathryn said instantly, unable to suppress a smile; Seven's relationship with her family was pleasant but tentative on both sides; soon after their return home, she had reassumed her surname of Hanson, but after consideration, decided that Annika was simply too unfamiliar, she had known herself as 'Seven' for too long.

"Are you certain you won't miss Starfleet, Captain?" Neelix asked, seeking reassurance from the horse's mouth even though the change from military to civilian was only a technicality in many ways.

"Definitely, and I'm certain they won't miss me." Kathryn commented dryly. "The Voyagers are larger-than-life garish reminders that they made a very big mistake with the Cardassian Treaty all those years ago, and of course after…events turned out as they did…they just want to be able to forget about it all."

Their faces were knowing, even Naomi, who had been a child at the time. Now as the others brought out more coffee, Seven took a swift opportunity to examine Kathryn Janeway at close range, and was pleased with what she saw. She had seen the woman in all moods and all manner of situations, but had never seen her look happier than she did right now. Had Seven harboured any doubts over her decision to terminate her relationship with Chakotay, they would have been fully extinguished.

It had all been so_ different_ back then. Admiral Janeway had succeeded in her plan to bring the Voyager home, sixteen years earlier than in the original timeline, early enough to cure Tuvok of the neurological disorder and prevent the deaths of 22 crewmembers, including Seven. But to the astonishment of many, while the knowledge of her death had left Seven unmoved, it was that she had _married_ Chakotay which had 'freaked her out'. Acutely perceptive, though not as articulate in emotional arenas, Seven had early realised the depth of feeling between Chakotay and the Captain, and had acknowledged that while his reciprocation of Seven's tentative overtures was due to an honest burgeoning attraction, a large part of it was his determination that he had lived long enough in 'futile hope'.

Already extremely wary about her own increasing emotionalism, Seven had been completely unprepared to discover something as colossal as the status of 'wife' looming in her near future, and knew she was not ready to deal with everything such a role implied. At the time, the mere thought of engaging in one attempt at full sexual intercourse with Chakotay was making her come as close to panic as a Borg got, never mind the whole 'house and children' package.

Thanks to Admiral Janeway, the previous timeline of the Voyagers had been erased, and their future was…what had the Doctor termed it? _Tabula Rasa - _a blank slate; Seven had ended the germinating romance instantly. Their relationship was only in a fledgling state, leaving Chakotay angry and disappointed rather than devastated and distraught. Unfortunately because the object of his ire, Admiral Janeway, was gone, he turned his fury on her younger counterpart, Captain Janeway, and a bitter argument had left the two apparently permanently estranged.

At the time, everyone was entangled too much in their own crises to engineer a rapprochement. The euphoria of the Voyagers' return to their homes and families had quickly descended into a massive culture shock. Some of the crew like the Captain had received _Dear John/Jane_ letters in the Delta Quadrant; others struggled to adjust to adoring children that were now sullen adolescents; there was the loss of aged parents in the interim and a thousand other new anxieties daily. Everyone on both sides of the equation had 'moved on'.

The former Maquis crewmembers had been in the most perilous position, but there had been no fear of imprisonment for any of them. Two years after Chakotay had received the terrible news from his friend Sevra about the massacre, political activists had succeeded in getting all the surviving Maquis in Federation prisons freed with full pardons if they agreed to join Starfleet in the new war against the Cardasso-Dominion alliance.

The Cardassians' treachery in aligning with the Dominion had showed the folly of the Federation's 'peace at all costs' policy with regard to the Cardassians in the first place – the policy that had led to the formation of the Maquis first amongst the abandoned Federation colonists of the 'demilitarised zone' and the loss to its ranks of fine Starfleet officers such as Ro Laren, Tom Riker and Chakotay.

Subsequent events had demonstrated explicitly that the Maquis had been in the right all along; the lobbyists and innumerable op-ed media broadcasts had pointed out that the Federation's intergalactic reputation was already damaged enough as it was, without them making themselves even more contemptible by doggedly continuing to label the Maquis 'terrorists' in the face of universal public derision and keeping those they had in prison under that status. Chakotay and the Voyager's surviving Maquis complement had been fully pardoned in all but name before they returned to the Alpha Quadrant, and those formerly Starfleet had had their ranks retroactively restored.

That hadn't applied, however, to the Cardassians. The Maquis they had captured, such as Tom Riker, remained the subject of debate and myth. Upon returning to the Alpha Quadrant, those of the Voyagers who hadn't immediately left Starfleet or requested long-term non-active duty positions had had the chance to take lengthy administrative leave. After his estrangement from Captain Janeway, Chakotay had asked for the maximum period permissible and taken off to the nearest Deep Space Station. He had been angry and hurt and nursing his sense of injustice.

In short, spoiling for a fight, half-tempted to restart the Maquis; Chakotay could have done so, as well. He had been a highly respected leader amongst them, and many would come at his call. Frustrated and resentful as he was, he had realised that reforming the Maquis was not the answer. Most of the Maquis were now free and rebuilding their lives whilst grieving properly for their friends killed by the Jem'Hadar in the Cardassian instigated mass-murder.

_Most_ of the Maquis. Chakotay had crossed paths with the crew of the _USS Enterprise_ on Deep Space 9, including then-Commodore Picard and Captain William Riker, at a party hosted by Captain Kira. Chakotay had known Tom in the Maquis, and was thus familiar with the incident that had created the Captain's 'twin brother'. Tom Riker was one of the MIA Maquis, rotting somewhere in a Cardassian prison.

Thus had been born his mission; Chakotay had decided to rescue the Maquis held by the Cardassians and had access to some Delta Quadrant tricks to help him. The commander had got lucky – all surviving Maquis prisoners were kept in one Cardassian penitentiary, and were going to be moved en masse from Cardassia Prime to one of their outer moons due to increasing seismic activity that probably presaged a volcanic eruption. If Chakotay could outfit one large shuttle to the specs of the Delta Flyer, he could pull off his solo ride-to-the-rescue mission.

It hadn't turned out that way though. Still nursing his wounded pride, Chakotay had been determined he would take nobody with him, for fear he himself would be captured or killed. But he needed someone far better at 'improvisational engineering' than himself, and so had turned to his oldest, closest friend, B'Elanna Torres Paris.

B'Elanna had been greatly anxious; the estrangement between Janeway and Chakotay had upset her deeply and she was fighting her own fears about being back 'home', insecurities about how the famous Admiral Owen Paris would react to a Klingon half-breed daughter-in-law being paramount. Her own father had made contact again for the first time since she was five and she was trying to rebuild her relationship with her mother. But this was Chakotay, and so B'Elanna had wholeheartedly worked feverishly to give him a shuttle that could outmanoeuvre, outrun and out-hide anything the Cardassians could throw at it, but not outshoot, since all the weapons systems would have to be removed to fit all the Maquis when Chakotay beamed them aboard.

But Fate had taken a hand. Miral had found the datapad thinking it was the 'build your own warp core' game her mommy had been designing for her. In frustration at being unable to play it, she showed it to Uncle Harry, who was then deeply involved in wooing back Libby. He took one look and brought it straight to Tom. By the simple expedient of secreting a tracking device on his wife's person, Tom and Harry had been present when B'Elanna took the final specs to her friend, overhearing the simple plan: the specs would enable the shuttle to be disguised as a Cardassian patrol ship; Chakotay would fly (undetected) to the outer moon and hide (undetected) in a nearby asteroid belt, then swoop out and simply beam the Maquis prisoners off the transport. He would then high-warp it out of there courtesy of B'Elanna's engines and then use the shields and sensors to 'hop' back to Federation space, hiding and disguising the shuttle as a patrol ship with her improvised 'holo-matrix projection' system.

Clearly distraught, B'Elanna had emphasised that she could jury-rig the shuttle to an extent, but that each system modification would work for less than two Earth hours and would be burnt out once that time was gone; there simply wasn't time or power for anything else. Nor would the doubtless emaciated and stunned Maquis be able to provide any practical help.

At that point, Tom Paris had stepped out of the shadows and taken charge. Reminding Chakotay that the man's life still belonged to him, he had informed the Commander that they would discuss in detail Chakotay dragging B'Elanna into his crazy scheme later, but "'right now you need the best pilot in the Alpha Quadrant, and that's me.'"

B'Elanna had returned to Deep Space 9 to look after Miral and monitor the situation as best she could from there before returning to Earth to provide alibis, while Harry and Tom had accompanied Chakotay. But Miral was a very bright little girl who crept out of bed at night and peeked through the door as her mother paced with silent weeping. Inaction did not come naturally to a Klingon, and so Miral had turned to her friend, Naomi Wildman.

Naomi realised that Commander Chakotay was in a lot of danger, and got hold of Neelix immediately. He in turn contacted the one person he had absolute faith in: the Captain. Janeway had received Neelix's communiqué while visiting Tuvok on Vulcan with Seven and Icheb, and it was clear what was going on.

_Continued in Chapter 3…_

© 2005 Catherine D Stewart


	3. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer:** Star Trek: Voyager and all characters therein are the property of Americans who are not me. No infringement of copyright is intended._

This is set post-Season 7 and is my 'feel good' ending to the show; I also try and provide as many _plausible_ reasons for this alternative future as I can! NB – the 'main segment' of this story is sent ten years after the crew got back from the Delta Quadrant. Spoilers – entire series. Rating T/PG13 for odd risqué phrase.

NB –Certain chapters are longer than usual for my postings; however, to do otherwise would interrupt the flow of the narrative too much, so apologies.

**ENCHANTED ENDGAME**

**Chapter 3**

Light years away Chakotay's gamble was executed flawlessly. Ace pilot Tom Paris glided serenely out of the asteroid cluster over the unsuspecting transport at deceptive speed and beamed off everyone that was registered as being behind the containment field aboard the shuttle, before simply going to maximum warp. The shuttle had shuddered with the weight of those aboard. The prisoners were emaciated, starved, battered and filthily stinking. Every Maquis the Cardassians held had been crammed into the containment field like sardines and the shocked people hemmed in Harry, Chakotay and Tom on all sides as there was no room for anyone to move.

While Chakotay yelled to everyone to keep quiet and explained what was going on, Tom and Harry concentrated on keeping the shuttle going, but after an hour the enhanced warp drive burnt out, forcing them to go to impulse. The holomatrix projecting an image of the shuttle as a Cardassian patrol vessel lasted another hour and a half before it too failed; when a couple of real patrol vessels located them, the multi-phasic shielding effortlessly protected them for an hour and a half before finally failing, and they managed to lose their pursuers temporarily in a gas giant's atmosphere.

But all had seemed lost just as the boundary of Federation space came into view; the impulse engines were screaming as Tom pushed them way beyond capacity in a desperate attempt to outrun the few Cardassian ships that had been able to dog their route, but one direct hit was all the Cardassians needed to achieve and their aim was improving. Out of nowhere a huge ship of unknown configuration had appeared directly in front of the shuttle, and blown it apart – mere seconds after beaming everyone off it.

The ship had fled back into Federation territory at high warp, almost reaching the Badlands near Deep Space 9 before the holomatrix failed to reveal a Federation Nova-class science survey vessel to any observer. On board, Chakotay, Harry and Tom had found themselves beamed directly before the Captain's chair, in which sat a stone-faced Kathryn Janeway. The Doctor had been brought in on the plan to provide urgent and off-the-record medical treatment to the freed Maquis, and he had grimly reported that, as expected, all had obviously been subject to long-term maltreatment.

Captain Janeway had revealed that B'Elanna was providing cover on Earth by using her home's holo-emitters to create holo-images, making it look as if the missing people - Janeway, Chakotay, Tom, Harry, Seven, Tuvok, Icheb, Neelix and the Doctor - were all enjoying a week's vacation at the Paris home in San Francisco. But it was a deception that wouldn't hold up as soon as someone tried to get in touch with any of the _real_ people, or checked up on why one insignificant suburban house was drawing more power from the national grid than the entire city. Tom Riker had declared that they could hide out and heal in the Badlands for several weeks, since it was the one place the Jem'Hadar had never been able to pursue the Maquis.

At the same time, Tom Paris had bearded the lion and the lioness in their den. Understanding Tom's discreet hand signal, Harry had followed him and kept everyone away from that corridor after Tom had followed the Captain and Chakotay into one of the research vessel's cabins and given them both what could only be described as a rollicking. Everyone knew that they loved each other, everyone knew that they had sacrificed their own personal desires for the good of the _Voyager_ crew…

"'Now get over it!'" Seven had heard Tom bark in such a tone as to make _her_ almost jump. "'The pair of you need your heads banging together! Your pride endangered the safety and life of _my wife_, a mistake that few live to regret. Right now B'Elanna is risking arrest by providing all of us with an alibi we only need because of you! I don't care what you decide, but you will resolve your situation before we leave the Badlands in one hour or I will dump you both here with the Maquis!'"

Hostile, but efficient; the pair had been much chastised. Tom had managed to sneak everyone back to their original locations en route back to Earth with nobody being any the wiser. A few weeks later, Tom Riker and the rest of the Maquis had suddenly arrived on Earth, dramatically claiming asylum and providing a wealth of evidence by virtue of their own scarred bodies for their claims of daily torture and abuse. Cardassia had demanded the return of their 'legitimate prisoners' but hadn't pushed the issue when they were ignored.

The Maquis had told a fanciful tale of a lucky break and daring flight that everyone accepted and nobody believed. Chakotay had been seen around Deep Space 9 several days before the rescue, along with his Talaxian friend, Neelix. Rumours that the ex-Borg and Kathryn Janeway's Vulcan Tuvok had also not been on Vulcan as supposed also swirled around, and when Tom Paris missed a sporting event and a friend called his home, his wife B'Elanna had claimed he was too ill to come to the phone, yet there was no record of Lt Paris receiving any medical treatment or a medical examination as per Starfleet regulations.

People drew their own conclusions; the former Voyagers _knew_ that Chakotay had been involved in rescuing the Maquis; they _knew_ that where the Commander was, Captain Janeway would be; they _knew_ that where Captain Janeway was involved, her most trusted staff would also be around. Now, ten years after the event, it was generally accepted though never uttered that the _USS Voyager's_ senior crew had conspired to snatch the Maquis from the Cardassians.

The Captain must have known as soon as she left Tom Riker in the Badlands that the writing was on the wall, Seven mused. The problem was that she _was_ the Captain.

Once back on Earth after helping Chakotay, Seven had announced her intention to accompany Tuvok to Vulcan, and indeed had found their species much less unnerving than humanity. They in turn had been happy to accommodate a human devoid of that species' usual proclivity for overexcitement. Being on Vulcan without the pressure to pair off or 'embrace' her humanity had enabled Seven to examine her feelings with clarity. She had realised that readjusting to being a woman in the fullest sense of the word would be a slow process, and considered her decision to break things off with Chakotay the right one. Her frequent visits to Earth gave her just as much human emotion as she was able to cope with, while providing her with a ringside seat as Chakotay and the Captain heeded Tom Paris's orders and finally got their act together now he was no longer _her_ First Officer.

On paper, that was, though. The Voyagers had been and were a family, albeit an extremely _strange_ one. Crewmen Jor and Baytart had transferred to the _USS Excelsior_ along with the Ensigns Ashmore, who were brother and sister and who, despite being the only children of their parents, had elected to continue on active service. Others of the Voyagers who had chosen to remain on active duty, such as Jenny and Meghan Delaney, Freddie Bristow and Lts Baxter and Kashimuro, had also transferred to other Starfleet vessels. But while their work was exemplary, their psyches were not.

The Captain of the _Excelsior_ had pointed out how his officers had overheard a dozen conversations wherein he was always defined in full: Captain Lucas, whereas Janeway was simply _the _Captain. Aboard the _USS Prometheus_ First Officer Zarok reported that Lt Walter Baxter tended to call him 'Tuvok' when he wasn't concentrating. On the _USS Al-Batani_ the ship's medical officer reported that the 'Voyager contingent' _preferred _being treated by the EMH rather than the flesh-and-blood physician. Aboard the _USS Valiant_ the EMH had approached the Captain worried that he was missing vital subroutines because Lieutenants (junior grade) Marla Gilmore and Noah Lessing only ever relaxed around him when he was singing opera like _the _Doctor. There was also the issue of rank – not all the brevet ranks had been carried forward, but the Voyagers tended to act on the Delta Quadrant rank, such as aboard the _USS Scott_ when the Captain noticed how Vulcan Lieutenant Vorik accepted orders from Ensign Ayala because on _Voyager_ their ranks had been the other way around; nor was it an isolated happenstance.

Likewise the Voyagers kept in touch socially, and any occasion ships bearing a collective of them were at the same Deep Space Station at the same time, a holodeck would be activated for _Chez Sandrine's_, which had become an almost universal program these days; the real establishment had enjoyed a ten-fold increase in custom since it was popularised in media documentaries of _Voyager's_ trip home. The Voyagers bickered and celebrated with each other to the – admittedly not deliberate – exclusion of others.

Nor had events such as this annual get-together helped matters, though their development was entirely accidental – but their catalyst had been extraordinary and impossible to factor into any theory of how the Voyagers would integrate back into Alpha Quadrant life.

_Continued in Chapter 4_…


	4. Chapter 4

_**Disclaimer:** Star Trek: Voyager and all characters therein are the property of Americans who are not me. No infringement of copyright is intended._

This is set post-Season 7 and is my 'feel good' ending to the show; I also try and provide as many _plausible_ reasons for this alternative future as I can! NB – the 'main segment' of this story is sent ten years after the crew got back from the Delta Quadrant. Spoilers – entire series. Rating T/PG13 for odd risqué phrase.

NB –Certain chapters are longer than usual for my postings; however, to do otherwise would interrupt the flow of the narrative too much, so apologies.

**ENCHANTED ENDGAME**

**Chapter 4**

Near Starfleet HQ in San Francisco, there was a large municipal garden of remembrance and honour, but wherein private individuals could purchase a small square plot of ground for a private memorial to honour someone. Captain Janeway had from her own funds purchased such a plot and placed there a stone plinth upon which she had attached a plaque. In neutral alphabetical order without distinction between Starfleet, Maquis or Equinox crew – and even Seska and her accomplices such as Michael Jonas - were listed the names of everyone who had not survived the Delta Quadrant.

Each year on an October day when the leaves were turning to autumnal jewels of gold and ruby and ochre and sienna, the Captain would go alone to her plinth and for a few minutes privately mourn the fallen, and nobody had ever paid much attention to a woman in a coat by herself.

But eight years ago, two years after the rescue of the Maquis, it had been different. Her relationship with Chakotay had been still new and young, but that wasn't the only reason the Captain had made her pilgrimage alone. She had been completely unsurprised when the seemingly endless 'debriefs' gradually turned into something nastily akin to _de facto _interrogations.

The Dominion War had been the catalyst for profound changes in the Federation collective psyche, not all of them for the better. Increasingly the sessions turned into a point-by-point pressure to justify every little thing she'd done, including prominently her decision to make Tom Paris Con Officer, her acceptance of Maquis to command-level positions, and her 'rescue' of several Borg. Knowing she had the full support of her crew helped, but Kathryn Janeway had faced down Species 8472 _and_ the Borg Queen, and mere Federation Admirals were way out of their depth.

She had neither apologised for nor sought to justify her blunt log entries as to why she had made those decisions, instead startling and wrong-footing the pontificating 'panel members' by dishing out some needed remonstrance and castigation:

"_It was clear the rot set in when you cashiered Tom Paris, but at the time I was too blinded by Starfleet's dazzling ideals to admit it even to myself, even though it was obvious to a blind amoeba that Tom Paris was punished for being an Admiral's son rather anything he'd actually done wrong, which did great public harm to the Federation's reputation and put off many fine young people from applying to Starfleet for fear of being…what the hell, let's call it what it is – being screwed over by the brass – in the same way."_

"_Captain Janeway! You don't seem to be clear as to just who here is –"_

"_I'm very clear. I've gone over the Caldek Prime accident in miniscule detail, my fair Admirals, and while pilot error may have been a contributing factor, that error did not occur until **after** the accident began to develop, it did **not precipitate**__the accident which killed those three officers. Tom Paris was no more to blame than a super nova or a black hole is to blame for killing something in its path. You sacrificed him on the altar of political expediency – and I have told him as much to ease his mind. You caused him years of unnecessary mental and emotional suffering due to his entirely misplaced guilt and I can assure you that you've lost the goodwill and respect of the best pilot to pass through Starfleet in a century. I hope it was worth it."_

They had blustered and flustered and warned her that her command decisions were being examined because 'serious concerns' had been raised about her judgement. Things had deteriorated from there until she'd had enough:

"_What are you doing, Captain!"_

"_I'm leaving. My lover, Chakotay, is meeting me for lunch."_

"_This is outrageous!"_

"_Admiral, for the first time in the weeks you've been dragging me here for this farce, we are in total agreement. Let me make myself clear: the Maquis were right. Politically, socially and **morally**, yet the Federation insisted on appeasement and placating clearly untrustworthy types at all costs. The Maquis saw the Cardassian-Dominion alliance coming half a decade before it happened, which is probably why the Cardassians instigated their genocide of the Maquis –"_

"_That is –"_

"_Exactly what it was: Genocide. The extermination of a people! Following which atrocity the Federation was – quite justly - humiliated and pilloried by the public and every species with an ounce of common sense, and just when you hoped it was all going to go away, Voyager turned up with some of the most highly-respected Maquis leaders not just alive and well but in trusted command positions."_

"_Well it's easy to see how Chakotay got his!" The speaker had snarled and then blanched at the look she turned upon him._

"_That statement is precisely why these sessions are finished as of now. As for those 'serious concerns about my judgement' or should I say the ruffled feathers of Section 31 –"_

_The panel Chairwoman began sententiously, "My dear captain, regurgitating that tired myth will not help you –"_

"_I don't **need** any help, certainly not from that organisation. I'm only going to explain this once, so listen up. We don't live in a perfect universe, so much as I hate to admit it, we need Section 31 and every agency like them to tidy up the messes we're too squeamish to look at. Here's the newsflash: I'm not squeamish. By the time I'd got past the Vidiians, the Hirogen, Species 8472 and the Borg, I'd exhausted my quotient."_

"_Are you daring to threaten -"_

_Once again she didn't let the blusterer finish a sentence. "I don't need to threaten. I'm intimidating enough. Let me lay it out for you. Section 31 didn't just drop the ball they threw it out of the ballpark. Their job is to protect what the Federation stands for by any means necessary. They should have seen what the Dominion were in plenty of time to cancel out the Founders' machinations along with the Vorta and the Jem'Hadar, but they blew it and humanity nearly didn't survive their almighty screw-up. They should be damn grateful they're** not **Voyagers, because right now they'd all have been demoted to cadet and put under special measures for woeful underperformance of their duties, not to say negligence. Even on her worst days, Tal Celes was more competent!"_

"_Strong words, Captain!" shot back the panel Chairwoman._

"_I'm happy to follow them up with strong actions. If their performance with the Dominion is anything to go by, Section 31 needs a few months of KP and emergency rations. They're getting fat and flabby. Here's **my**_ _recommendation to you: trim their fat, because loathe though I am to admit it, we need Section 31, and we need them lean and mean, not acting as if they'd been stationed on Risa for the last decade!"_

In full Captain Janeway mode she had swept out of the room and nobody had tried to summon her again for a 'briefing' they knew she would not attend. But aware of the possibility of surveillance and potential 'unpleasantness' on the part of an affronted Section 31, Kathryn had decided against inviting Chakotay to join her at her _Voyager _memorial until the following year, just in case she herself suffered an 'accident' in the process of visiting it.

The wildcard, as Tom Paris would aptly put it, had been Miral Paris, who had noticed how 'mommy and daddy's Captain was very sad.' Half-understanding the stories of the Delta Quadrant and even overhearing a few whispered mutterings about Section 31 from adults gossiping about Captain Janeway, Miral had perceived it her duty to protect the Captain, and so had taken a phaser but not a com badge. The little girl had slipped away unnoticed supposedly en route to school as she spotted the Captain walking along.

The school had contacted Miral's parents when the little girl failed to arrive; a quick search of their home, plus Harry and Libby's next door, had turned up blank. All the places that Miral knew were empty, all the places that a small girl would find attractive were likewise empty. Tom called Chakotay to ask if he and the Captain had seen the girl, and Chakotay, unaware of Kathryn's whereabouts, promptly came to join the widening search and he discovered the missing phaser. The Doctor had been contacted and had promptly transmitted himself to the house, where one of the many mobile emitters kept by _Voyager_ personnel enabled him determine by a forensic residue scan that Miral had taken the phaser and armed it before leaving the house.

Naomi Wildman was pulled from school, and denied all knowledge but admitted Miral had expressed that the Captain was 'different' recently; Miral had said that the Captain was sad and was worried she was upset because 'bad people' were trying to get her. The Doctor had suggested contacting Icheb, which in turn brought Tuvok and Seven into the matter. Tuvok had sombrely declared that since it was impossible to ascertain what was fact and what was the misinterpretation of a small child's limited understanding, they had no choice but to continue under the assumption that Captain Janeway was in either real physical danger or experiencing emotional distress that could cause her to be a danger to herself.

Miral's other favourite person was Neelix, who was also none the wiser as to her whereabouts and alarmed when Naomi burst into tears and wailed that bad people were after the Captain and Miral had taken a phaser to protect her. Neelix had walked into an extremely important high-level conference and announced to one and all on live broadcast channels that he was cancelling it because Miral Paris was missing in possession of a working phaser and there was evidence to suggest the child believed Captain Kathryn Janeway to be the subject of imminent harm. Almost snarling he had warned of unspeakable retribution should "'our Captain or our child be harmed.'"

Like wildfire the news had spread amongst the Voyagers, and within an hour most of the nearby crew were in San Francisco helping to quarter the city in search parties, along with Miral's four grandparents and assorted friends. Captains aboard starships found themselves faced with frantic, fretting crewmembers offering to work latrine-cleaning duty for eternity but they had to get to Earth _now _because _their _Captain was in danger. In short order the largest assemblage of Starfleet vessels in Earth orbit since the Dominion War was underway.

Five hours had gone by with the grieving Captain in the sheltering arbour of the gardens unaware of the pandemonium that reigned outside, as was the little girl secreted in the bushes watching her determinedly despite being bored and cold, both unaware that fate was yet again about to take a hand. Miral did not know that another pair of eyes, cold and nasty, were also watching the solitary figure, not a premeditated evil, only an opportunistic one, but her Klingon blood whispered a warning that she had been right, that _somehow_ mommy and daddy's Captain was not safe.

She had spotted her mother passing the Gardens' entrance; Seven had managed to utilise various sensor arrays with permission of Starfleet HQ to triangulate Miral's position, even without a com badge, to somewhere nearby, and the entire crew converged on that location, but could not find the child. Miral had begun to walk towards the gates, before noticing a shimmering in the air that was heading towards the Captain. She had no idea what a personal cloaking device was, but something told her the shimmering air was bad, so she picked up stone from the grass, and threw it at the air as hard as she could.

The Ferellian had been viciously attacking people for their valuables wherever it went, using its personal cloaking device to hide in plain sight from the authorities, but the device strapped to its chest was large and delicate. The well-aimed stone hit the device dead centre and shattered the emitter, rendering it useless. The instant the creature became visible, Miral ran to the astonished Captain who had no idea what was going on but knew that the creature bearing down on them was not friendly. Miral let out a piercing shriek, her three lungs carrying the sound like a klaxon, even as she tried to shoot the creature.

Snatching the phaser, Janeway had emptied several 'kill' shots into the charging thing with no effect, unaware that behind her the Voyagers were running through the gates and the media broadcast the image of the woman trying to protect the child from the alien; the Ferellian lashed at the human woman, throwing her aside and Miral screamed in fear.

It never stood a chance; B'Elanna and Tom Paris never even slowed down as they flung themselves bodily at it even as Janeway scrambled to her feet with her face gashed and grabbed a nearby rock with which she also began to batter the creature. Madly screeching it was battered at every turn before finally being subdued and hustled away by law enforcement officers.

Explanations had followed on both sides, and for the first time since she had created the plinth, Kathryn Janeway did not stand a lone vigil for the fallen. The annual get-together had evolved out of that event. Most years, like this one, it tended to be just the command staff, but a couple of times the entire crew complement had packed themselves into the Paris residence. Occasionally if any crewmember was passing by, they would drop in for an hour, and oftentimes similar parties would be being held by other Voyager groups of particularly close friends. All the Voyagers had fallen into the habit of visiting Captain Janeway's memorial whenever they came back to Earth and leaving flowers and small tokens or trinkets, to the extent that it was now commonly referred to as 'the Voyager shrine'.

The Ferellian incident had been the cement as far as Kathryn's nebulous decision to leave Starfleet was concerned. At the time, in the back of her mind, there had been a concern that the Ferellian had been a Section 31 assassination ploy, and even though by the end of the week she was certain she had been woefully over-imaginative in that regard, the fact that she had even considered the idea at _all_ had been proof positive to herself that she could not continue to serve in an organisation she no longer respected and certainly did not really trust.

That Christmas – the first she and Chakotay spent living together as a couple – he had greeted her when she got home with puzzlement because they had received an anonymous gift. It was a large hamper from a local health food store, every item of which was guaranteed 'fat free'. She had understood and been relieved by the _de facto_ message from Section 31 that there would be no repercussions from her forthrightness, but the fact was that if she remained in Starfleet, she and they were going to clash again, and she had far too many people she cared about that they could threaten for her to win another confrontation.

Seven watched Captain Janeway and Chakotay preparing to leave this annual get-together and wondered where the Captain's mind had wandered for those few moments – no a pleasant remembrance, if the shadows in the Captain's eyes were any indication. Seven had no regrets about ending her relationship with Chakotay, and the tenderness that shone from his eyes as he helped his wife put on her coat only assured her of the rightness of her decision. Chakotay was a man of strong passion and he needed a woman with similar strength. Seven felt no inadequacy within herself, but she knew that her strength was of ice, whereas Kathryn Janeway's strength was fiery, and the latter was what Chakotay really needed.

Unnoticed, Seven cast her eyes once more around this gathering of her friends, and was pleased with what she saw, even though their lives were all about to undergo major changes – yet again.

"We will adapt," she assured and challenged the universe at large with total confidence…

_Concluded in Epilogue…_

© 2005 Catherine D Stewart


	5. Epilogue

_**Disclaimer:** Star Trek: Voyager and all characters therein are the property of Americans who are not me. No infringement of copyright is intended._

This is set post-Season 7 and is my 'feel good' ending to the show; I also try and provide as many _plausible_ reasons for this alternative future as I can! NB – the 'main segment' of this story is sent ten years after the crew got back from the Delta Quadrant. Spoilers – entire series. Rating T/PG13 for odd risqué phrase.

NB –Certain chapters are longer than usual for my postings; however, to do otherwise would interrupt the flow of the narrative too much, so apologies.

**ENCHANTED ENDGAME**

**Epilogue**

"…the Borg much of a threat," countered Stephaine Riker, grinning as he flicked shut his locker door.

"That's because luckily for all of _you_ my ancestors were there to kick Borg butt," retorted Lieutenant Eugenie Thomasina Paris, known by the self-admittedly highly appropriate nickname of 'Zanie', also grinning at her long-time friend to take any sting out of her words.

From behind them there came what sounded like a deliberately not-quite-quiet-enough derisory sniff; 'Phaine and Zanie both turned and eyeballed the guy ostensibly double-checking his nostrils' capacity to suck in air.

Unfazed by their dual scrutiny, Rhydian DiMarco drawled, "You're always _talking_ a good game about your big, bad and scary Klingon side, Paris."

DiMarco was Earth-born, being mostly human of incredibly mixed American Indian, Celtic Caucasian and Oriental Nipponese descent, with a spicy infusion of DNA courtesy of a Ndiisi great-grandmother. He thus had silken obsidian-hued hair that begged to be stroked, eyes that were bottomless black-velvet pools of sensual promise, bone structure to die for, skin a perfect shade of Florentine gold and that indefinable Ndiisi sexual allure.

And he knew it. Aware of her own limitations in the looks department – gamine, freckled face, uncontrollably curly brown hair and, like most of the females in her family, vestigial Klingon forehead ridges – Zanie was not bothered in the slightest by her lack of conventional prettiness; instead she eyed him with the tolerant benevolence of a veteran pilot towards a promising but overconfident young gun. DiMarco had just been promoted from Lieutenant, junior grade to Lieutenant and was obviously feeling his pips.

"If you've got it, flaunt it." She loftily declared with an arrogant shrug.

"But I've never _seen_ it, Paris," DiMarco claimed, ignoring the chuckles and ribaldry of the other pilots. "All those stories about not setting off Zanie Paris's Klingon side, but you've never so much as raised your voice in the past three years. I'm beginning to suspect that…" he paused dramatically, "…secretly you're a big _softie_."

Stephaine groaned dramatically and raised a hand as if to hold Zanie back. "Let me give Sick Bay a heads up to expect the body before you kill him."

Zanie, however, merely laughed, "You _want_ me to hurt you, DiMarco? That's something you need to take up with your sexual psychotherapist."

That drew hoots and catcalls anew, but DiMarco curled his lip in a deliberately I'm-gorgeous-and-I-know-it provocation, "Scared that I can outfight as well as out-fly a member of the mighty Paris clan of super-pilots?"

Instead of retorting, Zanie deliberately folded her arms, and slowly looked DiMarco up and down with a deliberately exaggerated expression of thoughtful speculation that brought instant hush to the amused audience of the byplay. "Right now, Klingon honour forbids me from taking advantage of such an unequal opponent."

His eyes flared at that while several made _nyeee-ooww_ crash-and-burn sounds. "How convenient," he sneered.

But she wasn't done; she let a slow, wide shark-like smile spread across her face and carefully dropped her voice into a lower, huskier register, "But you're pretty good, DiMarco. Keep practising and one day, you might even be good enough for me to _fly_ _you_."

Whistles and catcalls erupted; Zanie smirked as DiMarco responded automatically to the blatant sexual entendre and the sensual speculation in her eyes, instinctively moving a fraction so he was closer to her than the other males -

"Try not to damage him too much, Lieutenant, he has potential. In a very short time he could be almost as good a pilot as you…and he's easy on the eyes." the Admiral added in a deliberately not-quite _sotto voce_ enough aside to Lt Paris, her eyes dancing with wicked amusement.

"Admiral on deck!" Everyone instantly came to attention at the declaration, but Zanie Paris was too irrepressible not to respond.

"Yes, ma'am," as usual for her family, Lt Paris instantly caught on and as the Admiral walked past she conspicuously eyed Lt DiMarco with an archly thoughtful gaze, fighting back a smirk at the answering and heated challenge in Rhydian's eyes; she had the feeling the next few months were going to be a lot of fun – for one of them at least.

They came to attention as the Admiral finished her impromptu inspection and congratulated them all warmly on their achievements and their presentation. Knowing when to make an exit as well as an entrance, Admiral Janeway left their crew quarters. Once the door had slid shut behind her to leave her in the empty corridor, she relaxed into plain old Teya, heartily wishing she could be a fly on the wall in the room she'd just left.

She started to walk briskly along the corridor but almost immediately had to slow to what she vainly persisted in terming her 'stately shuffle'. The doctor, interfering busybody, had demanded that for her heart she must only 'travel' by site-to-site transport, or else the consequences could be…Well, what did he _expect_ from a 197-year-old, cartwheels and handsprings? Ridiculous, a whippersnapper two-thirds of her age trying to lecture her on her health – let him get this old first, then he could dole out trite clichés, and he wasn't even _the_ Doctor.

Teya felt a different pang, one of her figurative not literal heart. She would have loved to have met _that_ physician in the flesh, or rather holo-matrix as it were. But nearly 350 years after _Voyager_ had made it home, just two years before Teya herself had been born, the Doctor had permanently deactivated his program following the death of an extremely elderly Vulcan woman named T'Ryn.

All through her childhood, Teya had experienced a deep disappointment, resentful with the typical self-centredness of the young as to _why_ couldn't the Doctor have waited just a few years longer, until after _she'd_ met him? It taken the understanding of age to sharpen her emotional 'sight' even as her physical eyes began to put their feet up a little!

But the death of T'Ryn had marked the end of an epoch for the Doctor, something a curious child such as Teya, with no concept of time, was unable to grasp. T'Ryn had been the last of the First Generation of children born to the 'Voyagers', the returnee crew. She had been the last surviving personal link to them, but even then, she had only been a partial one.

When Tuvok's last son, Turak, had undergone the Pon Farr, Seven had agreed to be his mate and indeed had coped far better with a serene Vulcan spouse than she would have done with a human male. T'Ryn had been the youngest of their children; however, she had been born essentially as part of the next and therefore _removed_ generation.

Some of the Voyagers she had never known at all. When T'Ryn was just six weeks old, Tuvok had passed away, by far the biologically oldest though not the first to die of the Voyagers – earlier deceased included Neelix, though the after-effects of the Metrion Cascade used by the Hankorians in the war with the Talaxians had contributed greatly to his health problems.

When his illness was diagnosed by the Doctor as terminal, Neelix had begun making plans to go into a hospice, but Captain Janeway and Chakotay had taken him into their home where their children had given him a new lease of life, along with his goddaughter Naomi Wildman who had practically moved in. Incredibly one day a very elderly woman had just walked straight into the house – Kes.

She ignored all questions as to how she had managed to get to Earth and her own condition as Ocampans lived only 'nine' years according to the revolutions of their home world. She had never left Neelix's side until he died peacefully in his sleep a few days later. Still without satisfying anyone's curiosity, Kes herself had also passed away a week later, a peculiarly apropos ending, as Ocampans mated for life and in a strange way she had always been Neelix's mate.

Previous crewmembers had been granted special dispensation by Starfleet to be interred around Captain Janeway's plinth at the 'Voyager shrine', Neelix and Kes amongst them, and upon his death, Tuvok's Will had made the same interment instruction. Even now Teya sometimes wondered what Tuvok's Vulcan family had made of such sentimentality. But there again, Tuvok's death had been the end of an era to those of that period as T'Ryn's had been to the Doctor. Tuvok had been one of the last living links to heroes of that period, having in his own youth actually met the legendary Vulcan Spock, Captain James Kirk, Dr Leonard McCoy, Chief Engineer Scott, Captain Uhura, Commodore Chekov and Admiral Sulu.

By T'Ryn's childhood, she had missed and therefore could never appreciate the rich vibrancy of those early years of the Voyagers return, their private and public struggles to readjust and reintegrate. When T'Ryn was a girl, many of the Voyagers had been like Kathryn Janeway and Chakotay, who were aged professors emeritus more interested in being doting grandparents. Or were like Harry Kim, who by then was a widower, retired from Engineering Design to become a full-time classical clarinettist. He more or less continuously toured the Alpha and Gamma Quadrants, accompanied by his good friends B'Elanna and Tom Paris who had sold their San Francisco home when their children were grown to accompany him on the grounds that (as the history texts quoted Tom Paris) "'I've never let Harry go wandering the cosmos on his own and I don't intend to start now.'"

The Voyagers' children such as Miral Paris, Teya and Seven Janeway, Naomi Wildman _et al_ were all grown up by the time T'Ryn was young, either with families of their own or established in their careers, like Tom Kim and Harry Paris, 'the two most vexing cadets ever to pass through Starfleet Academy', both eventual heroes of the Vidiian-Klingon War, and key players in bringing about peace, alongside Commodore Ayala, eldest son of Lt Ayala.

T'Ryn's formative years had thus been spent in the autumn and winter of the Voyagers' lives and there had been much that had passed her by. Before T'Ryn even reached adolescence, Kathryn Janeway was once again making her annual pilgrimage to her plinth alone, Chakotay her beloved mate buried there alongside Tuvok, her most trusted friend, now bereft of the two stanchions of her life.

The Parises and Harry Kim had all died in the same year; Harry and B'Elanna Torres Paris had passed away within weeks of each other, and a few weeks after that, Tom Paris had simply 'stopped'. He was unable to continue without the two people who had been the bedrock of his life for so many years, and quite simply he didn't _want_ to. By then those who mourned at the Voyager shrine were ever fewer; Kathryn Janeway was of great age by then, jokingly attributing her longevity to a diet of pure caffeine.

She and Chakotay had moved back to San Francisco when their youngest child was grown and every October with increasing slowness she would make her way from her townhouse to the transport shuttle and alight at the Gardens she could no longer walk to from her home as she had done with Chakotay for so many years, even though her eyesight was by then so bad she had no idea that when she handed in her travel chit the shuttle conductor gave it back without having billed her – she was _Janeway_.

Until one October day when no figure was waiting at the shuttle stop. The shuttle waited and waited, until the passengers checked that the few Voyagers waiting at the shrine did not have the Captain already with them. Then the passengers had called at Captain Janeway's home, and found her in the kitchen rocking chair Chakotay had hand-carved for their fifth wedding anniversary; bundled up ready for the chill weather, she had simply sat down for a few minutes and closed her eyes eternally.

When T'Ryn had herself died of the great age typical of Vulcans, the Doctor had seemed to himself to be an anachronism. Her death made the Voyagers as legendary to that generation as Captain Kirk and his _Enterprise_ had been to Kathryn Janeway's. They were larger-than-life figures of holonovels and documentaries, analysed historical personages in school and higher education history texts, but they were no longer '_real_'.

Only one hologram, whose subroutines and memory circuits granted him perpetual and perfect crystal clear recall, remembered. He alone only had to close his eyes to relive sharply their eternal hope during their epic journey across uncharted space; he alone felt that reminiscent pride in recalling exactly how they had been willing to turn down Admiral Janeway's plan to return them to the Alpha Quadrant in favour of destroying the Borg hub even though they would be stranded in the Delta Quadrant for decades.

The Doctor was the sole being who remembered _precisely_ what his memoirs had called the 'stomach-twisting, heart-clenching, blood-pounding, eye-burning indescribably euphoric _depth_ of emotion that seemed to tremble through the very ship itself' as they destroyed the Borg sphere from within and surged through the wreckage, out, out, to see that glorious shimmering blue jewel of a world and the massed ranks of the ships that became their honour guard.

Voted the Alpha Quadrant's No.1 News Clip in every century since (which Teya only watched in private so nobody could see her cry) was the replay of the _USS Voyager _sweeping into land at San Francisco, the dusk as bright as day from the fireworks and celebratory crowds thronging the streets. A massed gasp of awe echoed as the _Voyager_ finally set down on the landing pad, billions watching as groups of people began being beamed to appear around the ship. But those people had ignored the approaching phalanx of Starfleet Admirals and Federation High Councillors; they had seemed oblivious to their loved ones crowding the concourses as their fellow crew members beamed onto the landing pad.

The crowd had cheered when Naomi Wildman solidified into view holding her mother's hand and cheerfully waved at them, and even more so when the Doctor, Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres appeared side by side, the latter holding a baby that gurgled and wafted its hands as if also trying to wave. Then a single transport beam formed and one final figure materialised on the landing pad – a slender woman of medium height.

"Captain on deck!" Tuvok had announced in stentorian tones.

…and instantly, every member of the _USS Voyager_ crew came to attention and saluted their Captain – including the waiting Admirals.

Only the Doctor remembered _those_ Voyagers, and only he grieved for them with a sense of _personal_ loss their own great-grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren could not feel.

So he had shut down his program perpetually, transferring it to an inoperative mobile emitter and ensuring he couldn't be reactivated, leaving an explanation playing on a repetitive loop on his console for his assistant to find, as he had no 'estate' as such to bequeath. The Doctor's closest Alpha Quadrant friends had been Dr Lewis Zimmerman and Commander Reginald Barclay; the former had created the Doctor, and the latter had tirelessly devoted his efforts to helping them get home. By special order of Captain Janeway for these facts, both been granted 'honorary' crewmember status and buried with everyone else at the Voyager shrine, but neither had had any immediate biological family or direct descendents who might inherit.

By special Executive Order of the United Federation of Planets following his self-deactivation, the Doctor's mobile emitter had been placed within Kathryn Janeway's grave, the Voyagers finally united together again, though by that time period their resting place had long been a tourist attraction rather than a shrine – something that perhaps only underscored the wisdom of the Doctor's decision.

As she paused yet again to catch her breath, Teya clucked her tongue in irritation at herself. Daddy used to call her his 'little worrier', and here she was. She was sure that Zanie Paris and that Rhydian DiMarco would turn out a fine couple. Her matchmaking instincts had always been more 'on the nose' than not and she had the proof - T'Ven, Tuvok's great-great-whatever granddaughter through Seven and Turak, had actually run a statistical analysis of her 'romance radar' when they'd attended the Academy together and with (for a Vulcan) impressed surprise had noted a 90 percent accuracy rate.

Yet here she was second-guessing herself already; even more ludicrously, she _knew_ her ancestors had made it through and yet she was worrying about the Voyagers. Her doctor would be calling her a silly old woman if she let that slip. But then she'd always been too over-imaginative for her own common sense to control sometimes. When her father had told his children stories of the Voyagers and their descendents Teya had listened each time with bated breath and rapid pulse, even though she _knew_ the generally positive outcome.

Not that the Voyagers had been magically immune to age, illness and accidents by any means, but considering what they'd managed to survive in the Delta Quadrant, they were pretty sharp when it came to spotting trouble brewing long before even the most perceptive people and equally nimble at 'getting the hell out of the way'. Useful skills they combined with a tendency to think 'outside the box' and which they'd taught their children.

That had enabled them to sometimes succeed with a high-risk gamble where others would fatally hesitate or vacillate. Those qualities had enabled Captain Tom Kim to win the defining battle of the Vidiian-Klingon War for the Klingon's Federation allies (using the multi-attack-vector capable ships based on the _Prometheus_ prototype that the Romulans had once tried to steal), helped because he had one of the best pilots in the Alpha Quadrant not only flying his attack trio but sharing such synchronicity of thought that he anticipated the Commodore's intentions – Commander Harry Paris.

But the battle had been won at a cost; Commodore Ayala's brother had been killed outright in the battle, as had one of William and Tal Telfer's daughters, Ekaterin, and one of Kathryn Janeway and Chakotay's daughters, Lieutenant Commander Amelia Earhart Janeway. Tom Kim had been seriously injured in the battle, requiring his left eye, ear, arm and leg to be replaced – after the Doctor had performed the most frantic 'field surgery' ever. It was a testament to the man's character that even from his sick bed, he inveigled his best friend and assorted Voyager friends and relatives into an audacious plan to strike a peace accord with the Vidiians whilst they were in disarray. The plan had worked, and Captain Kim had become one of the youngest Admirals in Starfleet, but he remained what he self-derisorily termed a 'desk jockey' for the rest of his life.

"Of course everything turns out fine; never fear, we are here!"

Teya turned at the bombastic declaration to find two men standing side by side in the previously deserted corridor. Tall, with dark hair and eyes, they looked like identical twins, and were wearing command-level style Starfleet uniforms. Or rather, what _had _been the style about five hundred years before.

"Q!"

They beamed at her fatuously, utterly impervious as she tried her most intimidating "I-am-the-Admiral-and-I-rule" glare. Teya knew all about this _pair_! One was _the _Q, life's bane of the great Jean-Luc Picard, the other was his son, Qb; together they had equally been the bane of the Janeway-Chakotay clan for the past five centuries.

The spring of the eleventh year after Voyager's return to the Alpha Quadrant had come uneventfully almost everywhere, an insignificant season in an unimportant year – until pandemonium had erupted over London one bright spring morning. The entire city had suddenly turned bright pink – every brick and tile, every leaf and grass-blade, every flower and bird and beast, even the River Thames itself. At the same time fireworks had begun to explode and massed angelic choristers blasted triple-note heralds on golden trumpets while it began to rain rose petals and the very stars themselves had seemingly contorted to spell out: 'HELLO GIRLS!' in the sky.

The cacophony had only been stopped when Kathryn Janeway appeared at the doorway of her London townhouse and furiously declared that unless the two Qs desisted _immediately_, they would _not_ be the godfathers. That had brought an instant cessation to the extravaganza, but had forced Teya's ancestress, despite some serious misgivings, to make Q and Qb godfathers to her newborn twin daughters – whose birth had caused their antics.

Actually it hadn't been that bad. The original Teya and Seven had thought the world of their omnipotent godfathers, who had come in very useful at the "I-want-a-puppy/pony" stage. Kathryn Janeway and Chakotay had also taught the Q continuum a thing a two by insisting Q pull his weight in the babysitting dues. They had even made Q's mate, the female Q, broody again after she declared them 'utterly charming' and gleefully noted how they drove her mate and her son to distraction, omnipotence or no.

However, the Qs had for whatever reason not only expanded the role to encompass all of Kathryn Janeway's children, but seemed to have decided that 'godchild' was a hereditary position. So for the last five hundred years, various descendents of the 'indomitable duo', as Q termed Janeway and Chakotay, had experienced sudden visitations (according to their recipients always at the worst possible moment) by Q and his son. The last such unwelcome surprise had occurred just over 120 years ago to a distant cousin of Teya's, a warp drive engineer named Richard Meygesi. Occasionally other descendents of the Voyagers had also received unwelcome visitors; Major Paris Torres HammondammHamm, a great-grandson of Tom & B'Elanna Paris had famously threatened to shoot them, and the Qs particularly liked to drop in uninvited on Tuvok's descendents with the express intention of checking they were 'still depressing and tedious'.

"What are you doing here?" Teya demanded in her most repressive tone.

"How could we pass by when our favourite goddaughter – this century – was worrying her snowy head about such inconsequentialities!" Q stepped forward and threw an arm round her shoulder, ignoring her stiff body to give her a 'matey' hug.

"Relax, Teya Two…or is it Three now pops?" the other Q began uncertainly.

She narrowed her eyes. "I am the _fifth_ Teya Janeway."

"Whatever…" Qb dismissed, "…anyway, relax. Your romance radar is still A-OK. Little Zanie – yeeuch how cutesy is _that_ nickname? – and her testosterone-overloaded friend will live happily ever after."

"Give or take three years or so." Q amended.

"Three years?" Teya dug in her heels as they shepherded her along the corridor. "It takes three years for them to get together?"

"Are you kidding, that room was practically drowning in the flash flood of pheromones," Qb snorted derisively. "She jumps DiMarco's bones two weeks from now. She decides why not have a fun fling with the fun guy before she finds the real deal."

"Amazingly Mr Musclehead does have more between his ears than his skull and he figures out her game plan and decides to make some modifications." Q grinned. "It'll be fun to watch…" he rolled his eyes at her glowering expression, "tut-tut, what a face! Look, it will be _fine_, they procreate like bunnies for the next decade adding ever more 'Parisian' DNA to the gene pool."

"Eh, Parisian, very good Q." Qb praised.

"Look…!"

"We're here to grant your dearest wish!" Q declaimed theatrically.

"You're going to just leave?" Teya blinked in surprise.

He glared, "_Second_ dearest wish. Cinderella – you shall go to the ball."

She groaned as he snapped his fingers – that was always fatal – and was forced to take a step back as she was hit in the face by a…climbing rose bloom?

Bringing the wafting frond into focus, Teya looked around her in alarm. She was certainly no longer in Starfleet HQ, but outside. Flanked on either side by the Qs, she appeared to be in some sort of garden. There was a wall immediately behind her and flagged stones under her feet, while yellow lanterns cast pools of light. But there didn't seem to be any immediate danger.

Laughter broke into her examination and she saw about six feet away humanoids – a tall, austere-looking blonde woman was talking to a youth with a strange ridged nose and…

_That_ bald pate and round face was recognisable anywhere – _Voyager's_ Doctor! With speechless astonishment, Teya feasted her eyes on the group of people. There was another group at the doorway leading into the house, including a blond man and a slender, pretty brunette who bore a strong resemblance to Zanie Paris except that she had fully developed Klingon brow ridges rather than mere vestigial 'bumps'.

"It's _them_…" she breathed, taking a few steps forward.

"In the flesh!" smirked Q. "Or rather, _they_ are. This is the tenth anniversary of _Voyager's_ return home. Feel free to browse and ogle, they can't see us, hear us or detect our presence, not even Miss 'I am Borg' over there or that irritating Itchy boy."

Teya wasn't paying attention; she looked at her own ancestors as Chakotay held his wife's coat for her. In the lantern light his rugged handsomeness and that tattoo gave his face a sinister cast, but Kathryn Janeway smiled at him as if he were Michelangelo's David. Teya stood entranced as the group made their goodbyes to their hosts, finally leaving the house quiet again.

"It's incredible," she breathed, feeling tears prick her eyes. "To actually be able to see them as they were then…"

"Of course, we're the Q, incredible comes as standard." He buffed his nails on his uniform.

"Where are they all going?" she asked.

"Oh to their homes, that sort of thing. I think at this time they were all living on Earth. Apart from that hirsute Talaxian at any rate; he preferred one of Earth's lunar cities, said it reminded him of home. Good thing, considering how he moulted everywhere."

"We need to get out of here!" declared Qb suddenly.

"What's wrong?" Teya turned sharply, but there was no apparent threat.

"Nothing," retorted Qb and then jerked a thumb in the direction of the couple passionately embracing a few feet away, "but in six minutes and…17 seconds – B'Elanna Torres will become pregnant for the third time, and some sights are more even than a Q can stomach!" he snapped his fingers –

- and they were suddenly on a main sidewalk in the city itself. A little further ahead, a familiar group of figures separated, some heading towards the shuttle port, whilst Kathryn Janeway and Chakotay began to walk along arm in arm. Instinctively Teya followed her own ancestors, wishing she could run and accost them and ask them all the questions bubbling up inside.

"Ah, ah!" Q chided. "Look but don't touch, all breakages must be paid for! Or do you really want an hour long lecture from your illustrious forbears on the Temporal Prime Directive. Trust me, Janeway can quote it _verbatim_." He pulled a face.

"You just dropped in to show me this?" Teya demanded suspiciously.

"Actually we have a proposition for you." Q admitted.

"Hah-ah!"

"Don't take that tone with me young lady." Q chided sniffily. "Besides, you'll love it. We'd like to offer _you_ an all-expenses paid vacation…with us."

"I don't understand?" Teya frowned. "You want me to _join_ the continuum?"

"Hardly," Q rolled his eyes, muttering something about 'minor bipedal species' under his breath that she didn't catch before going on, "Isn't it true that you've always been more into your family's history than most of your relatives? Haven't you always wanted to see their time for yourself? That's what we're offering. You've dedicated your life to service of your world and your family. You have no mate or children to hold you back, why not?"

Teya hesitated. It was tempting. Her battalions of nephews and nieces had, quite rightly, never loved her more than their own parents and she had never felt any biological urge to reproduce, happy to vicariously experience parenthood at a distance through her siblings.

"I'm still a Starfleet Admiral. I still have responsibilities…"

"Actually, you don't." Q looked slightly sheepish.

"What do you mean?"

"When we appeared in the corridor behind you we startled you –"

"Yes, you gave me a start," Teya conceded.

Qb stepped up and put his arm round her shoulder with a pained expression, "Actually we gave you a _stop_."

There was the sound of clicking fingers, and suddenly Teya was back in the corridor, but again she wasn't alone. A large gathering of people were standing over…her. Teya looked down at her own form; she was lying on the corridor carpet, not sprawled but straight, as if she had decided to lay down for a brief nap. One of the paramedics shook her head and carefully laid some sort of cloth over Teya's upper torso and face. At the forefront of those standing Teya saw Zanie Paris, rigid with her hands clenched and tears swimming in her eyes. Rhydian DiMarco gently laid his hand on her shoulder and instead of shrugging it off the young woman instinctively leaned into the support – yes, they would be fine.

"I'm dead."

"As a dodo," Q said cheerfully.

"So you took my soul out or something?"

"Dear me, how fanciful…no." Q rolled his eyes. "You're intact, body and soul. In the instant before you keeled over – your heart by the way – we…how can your primitive understanding comprehend? Let's say we yanked your consciousness out."

"Come on, what do you say," urged Qb.

"I've only just found out I'm dead!" she protested.

"Pshaw!" Qb waved that away. "Come on, think of it. Wouldn't you love to be on the bridge of that ship with Harry Paris and Tom Kim? Don't you want to have a ringside seat back in the Delta Quadrant and watch great-great-whatever granny Kathryn go one-on-one with the Borg Queen? You don't have to stay forever! We're offering you the chance to kick back and relax a while. Consider it a well-earned vacation."

Teya bit her lip; yes, she would love and yes she did want…"Well…"

"It'll be fun!" the Qs assured her in chorus.

And it _was_.

© 2005 Catherine D Stewart


End file.
